Posthumous
by Apocalypticism
Summary: Arnold looked different than she remembered him. His skin was sallow, eyes tired, and even the warm light of the café couldn't hide the purple circles under his eyes. It was like he had shrunk inside himself.


Helga looked down at her hands, chapped and raw from the cold. She rubbed them together, feeling the rough texture under her fingertips. It would be nice if she had some lotion. But she didn't, so Helga just put her hands around her cup of coffee, feeling the warmth from the drink flow into her fingers.

"You haven't answered my question, Helga," the man sitting across from her said.

Helga's head snapped up. For a second, she could pretend like she had forgotten about him and the fact that they were both in some little hippie café having coffee. But she couldn't. She hadn't been able to forget about him for twenty years.

"How do you expect me to answer that?" Helga said, putting her coffee back down on the table. "How do you expect anyone to answer that?"

Arnold looked different than she remembered him. It wasn't like she realised that her memory romanticized him, but he was _much_ different than when she had last seen him. His skin was sallow, eyes tired, and even the warm light of the café couldn't hide the purple circles under his eyes. It was like he had shrunk inside himself; it was like there were several more layers of skin on him than there should be. When he moved, she was able to glimpse a patch of gauze taped to his chest.

He was sick. She knew it. Helga didn't know with what, but she knew, even though he hadn't told her.

Arnold licked his lips and sighed. He sipped his drink slowly; Helga couldn't believe how frail his movements were. He was some sort of breakable doll. Was this the same man with whom she had once enjoyed the companionship of? He was so strong back then, Helga remembered, built like his father.

"I'm really sick, Helga," Arnold finally admitted, lowering his lashes and only letting the floor see his sad, green-eyed gaze. "I won't get to do a lot of things, like finish my degree, or date, or get married, and I'm okay with that."

"But you want to have a kid," Helga said, eyes narrowed. "And you want it to grow up without a father."

"I never wanted my kid to go through what I had to..." Arnold's voice grew more tired by the second. "And it won't.. it'll have you."

"I can't do this for you, Arnold," Helga stood up, accidentally knocking over her coffee. It went everywhere, but Helga made no move to clean the mess up. "How do you know you would even see it born? How can you willingly put a child through the pain of growing up without a father?"

Helga roughly grabbed her coat and threw it on, ready to run right out of the cafe. Arnold didn't try to stop her, he only said:

"I asked you because you're the only person I trust. I know how much you loved me. You're the only person I would want."

Helga did all she could to not look back at him as she left. If he was going to die, she didn't want to remember him as some sallow, shrunken man. In her memories, she wanted him to be perfect. And she didn't want Arnold to see her cry.

–

Helga didn't go to the funeral. She was in denial. If she didn't see him in that casket, if she didn't see him lowered into the ground, then he still existed. He still existed in her memories as that same broad-shouldered young man, that very same kind-hearted individual she had always loved.

And now, Helga had decided, as she sat in that wooden-smelling doctor's office, clutching a piece of paper, that he couldn't only exist in her memories. That would be cruel, Helga knew, to deny the world of such an extraordinary man. She didn't have to courage to do it while he was alive, but Helga knew that she had to perform this last act of kindness for the only man she would ever love.

"Are you read, Miss Pataki?"

Helga got up and looked at the letter one last time, before folding it up, placing it in her pocket, and joining the nurse.

_Helga,_

_It was wrong of me to ask so much of you, but just incase. Know that I will miss you._

_Love Always,_

_Arnold._

There was a scribbled address at the very bottom. Helga was there at that very moment.

–

I have had a hard time finding good stretches of time to sit down and write, but today one of my classes got cancelled so ta-da! Firebird 13 is still being worked on.

This one is weird, but it was inspired by a dream I had the other night, where the guy I'm seeing was all "I have cancer again! After chemo this time, I won't be able to have children! Lets have a baby!" Which he would never do lol.

SO. This is about as AxH as I'm willing to get.


End file.
